


The Snake Oil Man Sells Lightning In A Bottle

by LadyElaine



Category: Weak Hero (Webcomic)
Genre: Everyone's a Bro, Fluff, Freeform, Friendship, Gen, One Shot Collection, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Slice of Life, saving this year one fic at a time, set in highschool and college, there's only so much heartbreak a fan can take
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26173474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyElaine/pseuds/LadyElaine
Summary: A series of unrelated one-shots about Gray and Stephen, sometimes with the other characters in tow.
Relationships: Gray Yeon & Stephen Ahn
Comments: 16
Kudos: 76





	1. A Cheat

**Author's Note:**

> I said I'd write a collection of 3 stories as a celebration for passing physics, so guess who's back >:0

Gray Yeon’s eyes creaked open. The sky above him was a perfect cerulean blue. He felt the lush grass in between his fingers and a strong wind brushing through the leaves of trees beyond his line of vision. Birds twittered and the bubbling of a calm creek faded in and out. And then--

"Gray."

He smiled. 

It had been a long time since he'd gotten to talk to Stephen. 

Not long after the incident, Gray had begun to have these dreams. He’d wake up lying on his back in a field of grass, staring up at a quintessentially beautiful summer sky. When he sat up, he’d realize he was in the middle of a grove of unblossomed magnolia trees. The sun was warm but not overbearing and the breeze winded through the air like velvet ribbons. 

Then he’d hear someone call his name. 

At first, he’d always panic, thinking he was being ambushed. He’d be in one of the readying stances he learned, prepared to toss someone over his shoulder. Then his eyes would catch on a glint of sunlight reflecting off a body of water and register the fact that he was near a small idyllic pond and was not about to be attacked. Silver minnows swam close to the surface, skirting groups of pond lilies and weaving between bog plants and cattails. 

And Stephen was always at the foot of the pond, sitting on the edge of a tiny wooden dock with a haphazardly assembled fishing pole. His fishing pole was made of a long wobbly stick he found at the side of the pond and 30 cent twine he obtained from a homeless person in exchange for a meal. Stephen didn’t know the first thing about fishing, and it was truly a wonder he managed to catch anything with it. But Gray nevertheless got the impression he wasn’t trying in the first place.

The dreams used to happen almost every night, when Gray moved away from their neighborhood and into the new neighborhood he now reluctantly called home. At the time, he hadn’t become friends with Ben and the others. He firmly held on to the belief that if he was able to talk to Stephen in his dreams, then he could bear focusing on studying and being alone during the day. He didn’t need to talk to anyone but Stephen.

But then, he inexplicably found himself drawn to Eugene and Ben and all the other guys at his school. He initially hadn’t wanted anything to do with them, but before he knew it, they started to chip away at his stone-like demeanor and he started to think being slightly more open to having new friends wouldn’t be so terrible. At the very least, they didn’t seem to want to use him as a punching bag. And they were all so annoyingly friendly, he frankly found it hard to say no to them.

Though he hadn’t said as much then, being invited to the pool hall was the most care-free experience he had in months and he appreciated being given the opportunity. During the fight where Ben beat up Jimmy Bae on his behalf, he thought “I want to be on these guys’ side.” Since that day, he had amassed a group of allies and people he was now okay with calling his friends. Of course, he’d hospitalize any of them if they ever turned on him, but he liked to have a little faith.

The more he got to enjoy having friends in the real world, the less often he visited Stephen in his dreams. What used to be nightly visits turned to weekly ones and the last time he had spoken to Stephen was 4 months ago.

Presently, he sat up and saw Stephen where he always was, his fishing pole cast into the water and smiling amiably at him. “Look who finally showed up.”

Gray stood up and brushed the grass off his clothes, giving Stephen a smile of his own. “Were you waiting or something?”

“Not any more than I usually do,” Stephen replied, beckoning for Gray to take a seat next to him on the dock. Gray did so, taking off his shoes before sitting next to Stephen, his feet dangling just a few inches from the surface of the pond. He didn’t have a fishing rod, but he was more than satisfied watching Stephen try to catch something unsuccessfully.

“How’ve you been?”

Gray shrugged. “You know, this rando from another school tried to beat me up for looking at him the wrong way.”

“And?”

“I broke his toe.”

He was fully expecting it when Stephen said: “Violence isn’t a good thing, Gray,” with a pronounced frown. “I never knew you to be like this back in middle school.”

“Things were different in middle school,” Gray responded, folding his hands together. “You and I...we were so indifferent to everything going on around us. That’s what caused the incident. I don’t want that to happen again.”

Stephen clicked his tongue. “Well, I guess it was my fault after all.”

“What do you mean? I thought we went over this.” Gray grit his teeth. “It was no one’s fault except Bryce’s and Oswald’s. If I ever see them again, I-I’ll--”

“Forgive them.”

Gray blinked. “What? Did you say?”

“You heard what I said,” Stephen responded, nodding at Gray despite the shocked expression slapped across his features. “You’re going to forgive them.”

“Stephen, how could you even _say_ that,” Gray yelled, fisting his hands. “You’re practically dead because of--”

“I’m not dead,” Stephen said flatly. “I’m just waiting for my body to catch up to my brain.”

“If you’re not dead, then why is this the only way I can talk to you?” Gray asked, feeling unwanted emotions creeping into his tone. “You might as well be.”

“You would rather I died instead of being in a coma?” Stephen questioned, raising an eyebrow at Gray. “That’s really nice of you.”

“ _Don’t_ twist my words,” Gray said. “I’m just saying...you know...you’re not here.”

Stephen paused and reached out a hand to touch Gray’s shoulder. “Are you sure about that?”

“This isn’t real,” Gray said, brushing Stephen’s hand off. Even as he said that, his heart dropped at the warmth he felt from Stephen’s hand, familiar with the touch from handing Stephen rolls of tape on hot summer afternoons in the middle of the school day. 

If he could turn back time, he would. If he could turn around and see the loath of their classmates staring at them from the windows, he would. If he could warn Stephen to avoid Bryce and sit at a different table, he would.

But he couldn’t. A series of continuous mistakes led to him sitting next to Stephen at that idyllic pond, with nothing beyond the horizon and nowhere to go. He had never tried walking past the grove of trees that surrounded the pond and he didn’t want to. He knew if he tried, it would really sink in Stephen was never coming back. He didn’t think he could bear that.

“What if this is real though?” Stephen asked, turning back to his fishing. “I could catch something any moment now.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Gray laughed. “You’ve been sitting here for a year and that bucket is still empty.” He tapped the bucket next to Stephen for good measure and smiled at Stephen’s slight pout.

“Gray, I’m going to let you in on a secret.”

“What?”

“I don’t actually want to catch anything.”

Gray nodded. “I know.”

“You do?”

“Well, you’ve got to save your reputation as a world-famous bass angler, and catching all the fish in one pond would harm your good standing with the fishing community.”

Stephen laughed. “Shut up, there aren’t even any bass in this pond.”

“You’ve never caught one so I guess you’d know,” Gray retorted and he playfully dodged a splash of water Stephen aimed at him. 

“Take me seriously for once,” Stephen insisted. He began rolling up the twine on the pole around his ring finger, reeling in the line. “Look at the end of the string.”

Gray peered at the string, now hanging taut from the end of the pole. “What? There’s nothing there. You don’t even have a hook or bait.”

“And why?”

He scoffed. “Because you’re a dumbass.”

Stephen sighed. “I’m trying to be symbolic here.”

“Go on then.”

“I don’t have a hook or bait because I’m stalling.” 

“Stalling for what?”

“You.”

Gray startled. Stephen's smile dampened and he waited for Gray to gather his thoughts.

“What do you mean, me? I’m not...you’re the one who’s been sitting here for the last year.”

“Doesn’t it seem like a waste of time when there’s a whole world out there past this pond?” Stephen asked, extending an arm and theatrically grabbing for the sky.

Gray didn’t understand. Didn’t Stephen know there was nothing past the pond? It was his mind and his mind had made it so he could talk to Stephen, but nothing more. He was satisfied with that. It was easier than letting go of Stephen completely. 

“What’s beyond the pond then?” he finally replied, giving Stephen the benefit of a doubt. 

“Gold, glory, cheeseburgers,” Stephen said decisively. Gray snorted and Stephen grinned. “No?”

“No.”

Stephen patted Gray on the head, ignoring Gray's repeated annoyed grunts. “I really miss you, you know?”

Gray gave an embarrassed smile, shoving his hand away from his hair. “You never change.”

“I mean, you continue to insist I'm a figment of your imagination here to stabilize your mental health, so isn't that a good thing?"

"You better stick to fishing, Stephen."

"C’mon, where's my 'I miss you too, Stephen, I sure wish you weren't in a coma'?"

"Of course I wish you weren't in a coma!" Gray yelled, cringing at the waver in his voice. He brought up a hand to his face, hoping to conceal the discomfit grin that had crept onto it. "No one will ever replace you, idiot." A small dizziness overtook him, which he shook off.

"So then you'll keep waiting too?"

"Of course. Nothing’s ever changed between us."

Stephen smiled. “Good. So dependable, Gray Yeon.”

Gray yawned, covering it up with his elbow as the dizziness intensified. “You’re the same.” He fought drowsiness that had suddenly overtaken him; a sign that his time with Stephen was almost up and he was about to wake up. “You’ll recover, right?”

Stephen pursed his lips and glanced away, staring at the pond. “Yes.”

He blinked rapidly, mind foggy and confused at Stephen’s delivery. Whenever he asked that question, it was always a resounding confirmation. Every single time, a bit of peace was brought to Gray’s heart when Stephen told him, overconfidently, that “I’ll wake up in no time and we’ll hang out again”. He never believed him, but it made Gray feel better nonetheless. What happened this time around? Why did Stephen look so...anxious?

His thoughts collided and mish-mashed as he was slowly drawn from the dream back into the real world. He could hear an echo of someone calling his name past the pond, though he could still see Stephen growing blurrier and blurrier.

“Don’t go,” Gray whispered, trying to grab the ever-fading silhouette of his friend’s arm with no success.

“I never went anywhere,” Stephen replied, his eyes crinkling in a smile. 

Gray blinked lethargically as the world around him started to close, letting the voice past the pond grow louder and louder--

* * *

“The boy sleeps like a rock.”

“Wonder what he’s dreaming about....probably math.”

“Disappointed but not surprised.”

“Gray, _get up_ , you have a call!”

He jolted awake and sat up on the makeshift bed, barely registering his surroundings. Ben was shoving clothes and food and water into the overnight backpack Gray had brought over while the rest of his friends were sitting at the dinner table having breakfast, still outfitted in their sweats. Or in Eugene’s case, the Jurassic park pajamas he got when he was 12 and had never grown out of. Next to him, Alex was holding out Gray’s own phone at him, shaking it teasingly. “Ben wouldn’t tell us but it’s someone _very_ important.”

“What’s going on? Who called me?” Gray asked, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes and unraveling himself from the blankets encasing his sleeping bag. Barring his mom, all the people he called were in the living room right there with him. He just didn’t know that many people. Unless--

Ben unceremoniously tossed the backpack to Gray and pulled on a hoodie, covering the ubiquitous “I Love Kats” shirt Teddy gave him as an apology.

“Mind explaining what’s going on?” Gray repeated. He stood and took his phone from Alex, ignoring the suggestive eyebrow movements he was making. 

He didn’t recognize the phone number on the screen but hesitantly brought up the phone to his ear anyway. “Hello?”

“Are you Gray Yeon?” 

The female’s voice wasn't familiar. “...yes?”

“Oh.” The woman over the phone sniffed and Gray suddenly felt very uneasy. He didn’t know how to handle crying people, especially those he didn’t know. He awkwardly held the phone away from his face as if the person on the phone would try to reach through and grab him for an unwanted hug. 

The woman cleared her throat and he cautiously brought the phone back to his ear. “I’m sorry. It’s just...my son wants to see you.”

Gray’s breathing picked up. “Your son?”

“Stephen. He wants to see you.”

* * *

Gray and Ben were on the transit bus, on a one-way trip to the downtown hospital district. Gray had an iron-grip on the bus pole, his mind swimming with questions and something he hadn’t felt in a very long time: fear.

It wasn’t really fear. But Gray couldn’t call it anxiety. It was a terrifying mix of excitement, dread, and anticipation. He felt like the butterflies in his stomach were going to carry him into orbit.

“Calm down,” Ben said, patting him on the back. “Is this really the first time you’ll be seeing him since the accident?”

Gray nodded sharply, his mouth dry as a desert. Stephen’s mom had told him that they had transferred back to the hospital in Gray’s area for final treatments because Stephen had woken up from the coma and needed specific medical attention. They had arrived the night before and the first thing Stephen asked for was to see Gray. Hence, after picking up an arrangement of flowers that were now crushed into his backpack, Gray and Ben were traveling as quickly as they could to the hospital where he was waiting.

“Don’t be scared,” Ben reassured. “I’m positive everything will be fine.”

Gray desperately hoped so. To be this close to finally getting Stephen back was a hope he hadn't even let himself think about before that morning and now he had already run a million scenarios of things that could possibly go wrong.

Roughly ten minutes later, Gray practically bounded from the bus steps and ran through the hospital parking lot with Ben following closely behind. He burst through the entrance of the hospital, his eyes roaming the lobby for someone who could help him find where Stephen was staying. He was finding it hard to think rationally with each person appearing like a blur, receding in and out of his consciousness. If they didn’t look like Stephen, they weren’t relevant to him.

“Gray, let’s talk to the receptionist,” Ben suggested, gently guiding him to the front desk. Gray let him push him in that direction, glad to have someone who wasn’t as attached to the situation.

“Excuse me,” Ben said loudly. The woman at the desk looked up from her computer and gave them a customer-service smile, though she did appear moderately concerned when her eyes landed on Gray leaning next to Ben.

“May I help you?”

“Can you help us find Stephen Ahn’s room?”

The woman clacked on her keyboard with neat pencil-sharp nails, rapidly pulling up the records. She was about to divulge the information requested until she hesitated, having seemed to read some extra information.

“Are you family of the patient?”

Ben glanced at Gray, who was slightly shaking. “...he is.”

“He’s just come out from a coma, I don’t think visitors would be appropriate at this time.”

“Stephen’s mom called us to come,” Ben stressed, growing more worried for Gray every passing second. “It’s kind of urgent.”

The receptionist squinted. “Alright. Room 346, third floor.”

Gray bolted up the stairs, completely bypassing the elevators and angering several employees and patients he shoved out of his way. Ben apologized to each of them, calling out for Gray and angering those who had apologized too by yelling too loudly.

Gray didn’t stop running until he arrived at the third floor and found himself frozen in front of a door labeled 346. Ben caught up to him, huffing in exhaustion and looking back to make sure they hadn’t been tailed by ill-tempered doctors.

“We could’ve just taken the elevators.”

Gray slowly shook his head, his breath running rampant of his physical capabilities. “Too slow. I--”

“Gray, is that you?”

A woman with short brown hair was approaching them from down the hallway. She had a subdued smile on her face and her wrinkles were strangely prominent for a woman only her age. 

“Ms.Ahn,” Gray responded, respectfully bowing to her in greeting. He tried his best not to let her see his vision flicking to the door on instinct, his hackles rising by the second.

“Oh Gray, I almost don’t recognize you,” she said, laughing with a very fake sense of levity. “We both know he spent more time at your house than he did at his own.” 

Gray smiled weakly. “Yeah.” He flashed back to lazy afternoons spent talking to Stephen, lying parallel and opposite to him on his bed, wondering what would happen if Stephen had never entered his life. At the time it was unfathomable. Now it just hurt to reminisce. 

“He’s really been wanting to see you.” She paused to notice Ben standing self consciously behind him. “You’re the one who picked up the phone?”

“Yes ma’am,” Ben responded, bowing as well for good measure. “I got him here as quickly as possible.”

She hummed in acknowledgment and turned back to Gray. “You can go in. He just woke up from the last surgery a few minutes ago.”

She turned the handle of the door and motioned for him to enter.

Before he could even take a step in, Gray had a lump in his throat. Just a few meters away from him, Stephen was sitting upright on the hospital bed, looking outside the window. Gray couldn’t see his face but he already knew he was smiling. What would happen if Stephen saw him right then? Should Gray give him the flowers or forget the flowers? Or maybe he’d break into a speech about how happy he was to see Stephen. Or maybe he just wouldn’t go inside the room at all and he'd go home and sleep and wake up and realize he’d made it all up. Maybe he’d pinch himself. Stephen was right _there_. Panic rose in sharp crescendos in his stomach and he took a step back, unaware his hands were sweaty and shaking. He didn’t know what to do.

Gray looked to Ben for help with a slight terror in his eyes. Ben was about to shrug, not sure how to handle this himself. He didn’t think he could treat Gray like he treated Gogo. They were different machines when it came to emotion. He was at an equal loss for words until a suspicious cake-eating grin suddenly ever took his face. He had it.

He reached into Gray’s backpack before thrusting the flowers they picked up into his hand, shoving Gray into the room and slamming the door shut behind him. Gray sputtered while Ben gave him a cheeky thumbs-up through the door’s window, mouthing “good luck”.

Alarmed, he turned back, only to see Stephen’s attention had been caught and his best friend had noticed he was there, familiar amber eyes trained on him. And it was all of him. The wit, the charm, the intelligence. Gray could see it all. Sense it all.

His voice cracked. “...Stephen.”

Stephen surveyed him, his mouth forming a perfect arch of a smile. “Wow. Your hair grew.”

That was all he got to say before he was smothered in a hug, Gray barely being careful enough to avoid the machines he was hooked up to, intent on confirming that this was real and there was no stupid pond and Stephen was there with him. 

The flowers laid abandoned on the floor.

“Careful,” Stephen said softly. “It still aches a bit.” Gray didn’t move an inch and Stephen patted the back of his head with all the tenderness Gray beheld of him. “Told you I'd recover."

“I can’t believe you woke up.”

“Well, I got a little bit tired of fishing.”

Gray leaned up against Stephen, eyebrows creased. "What did you just say?" There was no way...

"I said I wasted a year of my life fishing at a pond with no fish and I'm kind of upset about it," Stephen repeated. He laughed at Gray's bewildered expression. “Surprise?”

Gray wasn’t sure if “surprise” was a strong enough word for it. Maybe staggering astonishment. He settled on the bed next to Stephen, looking away when he noticed Stephen’s legs, shrunken and atrophied from lack of use. Even though Stephen was the one who had suffered, it felt like he was the one who needed stabilizing

Stephen brought up his hands to the sides of Gray’s face, squishing his cheeks. “Aw, you’re so cute when you’re speechless.”

Gray cried. It was all too good to be true. Stephen had been aware of the dreams. He had really been talking to Stephen the entire time. Stephen wasn’t in a coma anymore. He hadn’t lost any of his memories and he hadn’t become braindead. All of him was there.

“I’m happy you’ve been doing so well without me,” Stephen said, using his thumb to brush away the tears sliding down Gray’s face. “Though I can’t say I approve of you resorting to violence.”

“I only did it because of you,” Gray complained, sniffling. “You never even said thank you.”

Stephen chuckled and leaned forward, touching his forehead to Gray’s. “Thank you, Gray Yeon.”

Gray relaxed, completely comfortable with Stephen. Stephen had that calming effect about him and just being so close to him brought tranquility to Gray. Who needed a few empty words? Stephen was the human incarnation of warmth.

They lingered that way for a few moments until Stephen finally ran his hand through Gray’s fringe and fell back heavily onto the headboard of the bed. “Can you do me a favor, Gray?”

“What is it?”

He pointed to a corner behind Gray, where a powered-wheelchair was immobile, waiting for use. “A little help?”

The room door suddenly squeaked open and Ben had reached the wheelchair before Gray could take a step forward. He had started lifting it over his head when Gray quickly told him that wasn’t necessary.

“Ah.” Ben put the wheelchair back on the floor and meekly pushed it towards the hospital bed. Stephen smiled warmly at him, as if he had been friends with Ben for years and not strangers of minutes. 

“You’re Ben.”

Ben nodded, perplexed. “How did you know that?”

Stephen cocked his head towards Gray. “He always talks about you. You have quote-unquote ‘really impressive use of core strength and lateral training’. He looks up to you.”

Gray shaded his line of sight, decisively ignoring the puppy eyes Ben was giving him. Stephen glimpsed at the two of them, a knowing smile on his face. “You’re notoriously strong. Mind giving me a hand?”

Ben nodded before lifting Stephen from the bed and gingerly placing in the wheelchair, trying not to wince at the creaking Stephen’s body made at every slight motion.

“You sound like a popcorn maker,” Gray commented, grinning at him.

“Give me some credit here, I haven’t hit the gym for a year.”

“You don’t hit the gym, period,” he sniggered.

“Now that’s just unfair,” Stephen said, throwing him a smirk and wrapping his fingers around the controls of the wheelchair. He carefully turned the chair to face Ben and held out his hand. “Thank you for taking care of Gray.”

Ben shook his head. “I didn’t--”

Stephen grabbed his hand and shook it anyway. Ben had no choice but to nod along, taken aback. When Gray had told him about Stephen, he had thought Stephen would be an introvert like his friend. It was clear it was the complete opposite. It was also evident to him that Stephen and Gray were two sides of the same coin. He had tried not to intrude on their privacy but he had happened to glance into the window right when the two were precariously close and it made Ben wonder what would’ve happened had Stephen not fallen from the roof. He would have liked to compare their relationship to his with Alex’s, but he got the impression theirs was much more different. 

“I’m starving,” Stephen suddenly declared. “Anyone want post-coma hospital gruel?”

Ben lit up. “I brought a backpack in case Gray needed to stay for a while. Do you want something from it?” He dug into the backpack and tossed Stephen a hefty chocolate bar. 

Stephen stared at the candy incredulously and promptly asked Gray, “Can we keep him?”

* * *

In the following weeks, Gray introduced Stephen to all his friends. He didn’t quite want to tell them why Stephen was in a wheelchair, but he was glad Stephen wasn’t awkward about it when they asked. In fact, he took the great liberty of dramatizing the story and making it look like Gray was a hero who saved him in a great time of need. Embarrassing, especially when his friends made no attempt to hide their kissy faces behind Stephen, but Gray didn’t have the heart to tell Stephen to stop.

Most of the time, they had to go drop by the hospital because Stephen was a long way from recovery. He still mourned the fact a nurse had snatched up his chocolate bar before he could eat it because his body couldn’t handle anything outside of water. His friends took a great liking to him and it almost became a game to sneak in the most ludicrously non-hospital food they could think of. Gray didn’t take any part in it, but once, Ben had sneaked in an entire beef roast and a giant cooler of banana milk.

“How did you do that?” Stephen asked, eyes glittering in amazement. 

“Magi--”

“One of his relatives works here and gave him nutritional clearance,” Alex said, utterly exposing him. Ben was declared an outcast from the competition as a result, by supreme order of everyone else. He took it pretty well.

“Hey, let’s all go to the boardwalk tomorrow,” Eugene suggested roughly a month after they had met Stephen. As they were starting to pick up their trash and prepare to leave, he had come up with the idea since they hadn’t ventured farther than the hospital parking lot. The others all nodded enthusiastically, on board with the idea. Stephen and Gray exchanged looks.

“Do you think you’ll feel well enough?”

“I’d never pass up the chance to go the boardwalk, purely on principle,” Stephen replied, waving him off. He signaled a kiddish thumbs up the other guys. “It’s a plan.”

Their friends cheered and filed out, Ben hauling half of the beef roast with him and bickering with Gerard and Alex about who got final dibs. Eugene, Rowan, and Teddy were dragging out the cooler of coke, having plans to hit Eugene’s house. They all left, except Gray, who wanted to talk to Stephen alone. He proposed they ditch the hospital room for a little bit in favor of getting some fresh air. Though Stephen didn’t need help, Gray pushed the wheelchair to the courtyard, rehashing apologies to the staff he had mowed over for the third or fourth time. Nurses held a mean grudge and Gray wasn’t pretty enough to escape with one apology. 

Now familiar with the hospital’s layout, he had no trouble navigating them to the open-air garden at the center of the hospital grounds. There were a few flowering bushes and an unexciting body of water in the form of a cement fountain, but that was the only similarity it bore to the pond from Gray’s dream. Still, it was better than nothing. Plus it was always deserted, so it was the perfect place to talk to Stephen uninterrupted. However, they’d be called back in soon, since it was nearing evening and visiting hours would close. Gray parked Stephen’s wheelchair next to a metal bench and settled adjacent to him. 

“You know, it used to be just the two us.”

“Stephen and Gray, dynamic nerd duo.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gray objected, leaning his head on Stephen’s shoulder, not minding how the bone still stuck through his skin. Stephen had been skinny before but he was absolutely emaciated now. It would take a long time for him to fully recover.

Stephen affectionately combed his finger through Gray’s hair and Gray didn’t back away, though he did shoot him a mildly amused look. “What do you wanna do when you’re officially discharged?”

"I might get a job."

"Why? You're not coming back to school?" Gray, in truth, had been hoping that he and Stephen would get another chance and they'd be able to complete high school together with the rest of his friends. He already had an appeal prepared for the teachers so Stephen could sit next to him in class. But it looked like Stephen had other ideas. 

"Remember what I said at the pond?"

"...about gold, glory, and cheeseburgers?"

Stephen grinned. "Exactly. Correct me if I'm mistaken, but your school lacks those three very important elements."

Gray frowned. "You're not going to get bullied again."

"I didn't--"

"You didn't need to. But I understand.” He placed a hand over Stephen’s, which was resting on the railing of the seat. “I’ll protect you. Ben will protect you. Even Eugene, tiny and scrawny as he is--”

“You’re one to talk--”

Gray squeezed Stephen’s hand, slightly furious. “Even Eugene would protect you, just like he did for me. They’re all your friends. Don’t be a wuss and skip out just because you’re afraid.”

Stephen looked down at Gray’s fingers, pressed lightly over his. Gray had thought a look of joy and hope would spark in his eyes but was disappointed to see a shadow cast over them. There was something Stephen wasn’t telling him. He could sense it.

Never one to prod, Gray folded up his legs onto the bench, hand still in contact with Stephen’s. Looking past the walls of the hospital courtyard, he could almost envision them back at the pond, comfortable in the midst of each other’s silence. It was just them in the courtyard, deepening the familiarity of the situation.

“Okay, if you don’t want to go to school, then maybe we could go somewhere?”

Stephen shifted his head in curiosity. “Where?”

“Anywhere, to be honest,” Gray replied. “I trust your work ethic, but I don’t want to see you bagging my stuff at the grocery store.”

“I really don’t know whether to be flattered or offended,” Stephen laughed. Gray smiled.

“I’d go anywhere with you, Stephen. You should know that.”

“This sounds like a confession,” Stephen teased. Gray smacked him on the back of the head, but not too hard lest he accidentally sent Stephen back into a coma. 

"You know what I mean," he huffed. “And who in their right mind would want to date you?”

“Why must you hurt me so?” Stephen groaned good-naturedly, lolling his head down. “Maybe I’ll be single and in a wheelchair forever.”

“Dunno, I hear guys with nice wheels are attractive nowadays.”

Stephen perked up. “You wanna switch places, Gray?”

Gray tapped his nails against Stephen’s, examining the cracks and lines in Stephen’s hand. Cracks and lines he had made sure to memorize because he had learned the hard way nothing was guaranteed. “As tempting as that offer is, I think I’ll pass.”

“Tough customer.”

“Tough business, not having legs.”

Stephen looked down at his apparently nonexistent legs, which were in fact resting on the pedal of his wheelchair and still uncomfortably skinny from lack of use. Guilt welled up inside Gray like an ugly puddle after a rainfall. He hadn’t meant to bring attention to Stephen still being in bad condition. Stephen only sighed. “At least they broke my head and not my chances of walking again.”

“I can’t believe you wanted me to forgive them,” Gray muttered. “I’ll murder them.” Just the other day, he had nearly punched someone who looked like Oswald from a few feet away. Lucky for them, they had turned out to be a justifiably terrified freshman trying to get to English in one piece, but it had set Gray on edge. He squeezed Stephen’s hand a little tighter.

“Will you really feel better if you hurt them?” Stephen asked. He didn’t ask it with any expectations. 

Gray shrugged. “I felt better after beating them up in middle school.”

"And how long did that last?"

"2 minutes."

Stephen grinned. "Exactly. So buddy, isn't it easier to let it go and live your best life?"

"I _wasn't_ living without you. It was hard."

Stephen brought a hand to the side of Gray's face, cradling his ear. "You had Eugene and Ben and Alex. You had a whole support group. You've come so far, Gray. You didn't need me. You _don't_ need me."

"I'll always need you, Stephen." He took a deep breath, the mixture of filtered hospital air and nature filling his lungs and taking comfort in the feel of Stephen's hand in his. "I love you."

Stephen's smile widened and the hollow look that had permeated his expression was finally replaced with one of his trademark understated happiness. 

"Heh. I love you too, Gray Yeon." 

Gray looked down, embarrassed by the moment but not regretting it. Stephen was his and had always been his. Whether it was in his dreams or in reality, their friendship remained unchanged. Stephen exhaled, satisfied, withdrawing his hand from Gray's face. He settled back into his wheelchair, head raised towards the sky. His expression was glassy, as if he was seeing beyond. Looking far ahead of everyone else.

At least himself Gray could already imagine them, ten years in the future, still friends. Things would be different. They’d probably be married. In all likelihood, they’d find themselves escaping their respective homes to go bring back the nostalgia of playing Takken in middle school. Gray would be a physicist and Stephen would be...hm, Gray didn’t know. But a banker, a social worker, a director or just for the fun of it, a professional circus clown, literally anything...Gray wanted to be there for it. He had an entire lifetime to spend with Stephen. He wouldn’t waste it. Starting tomorrow with the boardwalk. He couldn’t wait to show Stephen a brand new thing he had discovered with the others called funnel cakes.

“I’m happy you’re here.”

Stephen didn’t respond. Gray quirked an eyebrow and patted his hand gingerly. “Stephen? Did you hear me?”

Stephen didn’t say anything. Gray frowned and turned to look at him fully. “...Stephen?”

Stephen’s eyes were wide open, staring up at the stars in the mellow evening sky. His heart had stopped beating a long time ago.


	2. Brokering Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set where Stephen attended a different middle school and Gray went to the science highschool as originally planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am mentally crying in a tub with a slice of cold pizza and stale pop.

It exhausted Gray. Searching. Hacking away at an endless field. Hitting wall after wall. 

He had spent a good portion of his relatively short life reading as much as he could, absorbing information like a starved sponge. 

He had thought amassing knowledge about everything there was to possibly know would help him. But elementary taught him people were severe, he floated through middle school to understand people were untrustworthy, and now entering his second year of high school with no one by his side...he wondered what the point was.

Gray wasn’t really the type to get metaphysical. He never feared someone up there existed or if every life form was a random occurrence in the grand scheme of the known universe. Those weren’t the types of questions he wanted answers to.

Instead, he wanted to know if there was a point to being who he was. He wasn’t quite a wallflower. His genetics had people taking second peeks at his chest and trying to not-so-subtly guess if he was a girl. He had found a few business cards at his front door from entertainment companies asking him to be a trainee. A few beatings from individuals too bored to leave him alone and too cowardly to pick on someone their own size.

However, it didn’t matter to Gray if others noticed he existed. What stood out the most was _he_ felt he was an empty husk of a person. There was a crater a thousand meters deep inside him he constantly struggled to occupy. His entire life had been dedicated to finding the key to the water source that would fill the void and create the mass ocean he knew he could be. He craved to be an ocean...his entire life...

But not anymore.

It was raining outside. Two hours ago, Gray had closed his natural science textbook and decided it was time to abandon his mission. Class wasn’t over yet, but he was. Gray was five weeks ahead of the syllabus, having double checked and triple checked his assignments, picking apart the choices and piecing them back together again like a puzzle. 

He scanned the classroom. It had the same view as middle school. Some posturing thugs sitting on tables and threatening their peers with comically dead glances. Cram school students with their noses deep in their textbooks, worrying about their probable fail for the next test. Regular kids trading lewd jokes with their friends and planning to meet at the PC cafes scattered through the district.

Gray pursed his lips. 

Friends.

Two hours later, he stood at the entrance of the school, watching the rain come down in vertical tides and flood the streets. Kids who had sensibly checked the weather and brought umbrellas (of which were few and far between) huddled with their classmates who hadn’t been as foresighting. Most threw caution to the wind and were running through the rain, splashing through deep puddles, generally dying of laughter. Gray imagined they felt they could be in a teen indie movie, being free as birds and letting the earth’s tears soak their hair and souls.

Or something like that.

Gray hadn’t brought an umbrella. He hadn’t checked the weather. He hadn’t seen the point.

He stepped into the rain and it wasted no time doing its duty to drench him. Not a single square centimeter of his uniform escaped and rivulets of water streamed from his hair to his face in a matter of seconds.

The walk home would take twenty minutes. At that point, he’d be waterlogged beyond repair. The books and assignments in his backpack wouldn’t survive but then again, they had recently hit his “giving a damn” expiration date.

Gray took about ten steps forward before giving up. The crater was too large to ignore. It was as if a black hole was turning him inside out, stretching and tightening him all at once. Languid emotions flattened and crescendoed like a misshapen orchestra, performing a dramatic ditty of “why bother?”

He lay down on the pavement, his head centered at the precise dip of a pool of water filtered from the cracks in the sidewalk to the drain of the gutter.

Cold liquid was filling his nose and eyes and mouth. Individual raindrops unapologetically pierced at exposed skin on his arm, giving him rows of goosebumps. He was very sure that if he were creative enough, he could pretend he was drowning.

If only. He was a sad picture, a small boy lying on the edge of a sewer curb, foolishly letting the polluted rainwater pickle his uniform an ugly shade of moss green and stain his clothes. 

Gray could almost laugh. He did in fact, a miserable little giggle and hiccup duo gurgling from his throat. He never thought he’d be the suicidal type. So hollow.

So.

Hollow...

A clap of lightning and thunder, jolting every underwhelming bone in his body and then--

“Gray, baby, it’s no time to die.”

The icicles attacking his skin suddenly ceased their assault and someone had put their foot over the drain, damming the rainwater from reaching his head. 

Another clap of thunder and lightning flashed behind his eyelids. The sound of the rain sharply lessened to a hush, akin to the aftermaths of an exodus of carbonated foam. The smell of cherry softener mixing with the petrichor forced Gray to open his eyes out of exasperated curiosity. 

Squatting down on the curb next to him and holding a translucent yellow umbrella over his body was someone he’d never seen before.

 _Wait, no,_ Gray thought, blinking at the person through bleary eyes. It was that new kid who had transferred from another district. He didn’t remember his name. The only thing that Gray could identify him by was seaweed-colored tape stuck on his pants in uneven strips and the mattress pins lacing together with the velcro of his boots. 

Bold fashion statements. 

Gray closed his eyes again, curiosity satiated. He didn’t know why this guy had stopped to investigate, but it was none of his business anyway. Maybe if he ignored him long enough, the guy would grow bored and move on, as they all did. The transfer kid didn’t really care if he died.

And most confoundingly, what was with that “Gray baby”? The new kid was acting like they were friends. He hated that. Gray willed for him to disappear.

Instead, he felt the transfer grab him by his upper arm and lift him from the ground with considerable ease. Gray let himself be dragged from the curb, indifferent about the events that might unfold. Maybe he’d be beaten up or taken to the hospital or killed right there by the new kid no one knew anything about, much less one hapless Gray Yeon.

Could someone get away with murder? _Yes_ , Gray thought, letting out another worn-out giggle. 

The kid wrapped his arm Gray’s torso, supporting the entirety of Gray’s weight, and essentially carrying him down the street all while holding the umbrella over both their heads. Gray almost wanted to ask how someone could be that strong, but he felt that was also futile since he only weighed half of what he should’ve. Still, the kid wasn’t having any trouble in the slightest and was gently humming a pop song Gray regretted he recognized.

They had trudged two blocks away from the school when the kid made a left turn and made his way to the local park where kids from the other high schools liked to congregate and smoke varied lettuce greens.

The guy led them to the edge of the playground, slides graffitied with slurs, and the merry-go-round wrecked from a few too many drunken joyrides. They sat on the wooden panels encasing the playground, crooked and rickety from years of mismanagement.

Gray shifted a few inches away from the new kid, not sure of his intent. So far, nothing bad had happened to him. Quick as he was to lie down and waste away in the rain like a witch, he would’ve fought tooth and nail if the new kid had tried to kidnap him. Gray had a stupidity streak where he had read a slew of self-defense books, only to conclude he was in no physical shape to take out anyone. 

Ugh, this sucked.

His uniform was blotched with bacteria, contaminated water was still running down his face in nasty droplets and if the transfer student tried to abduct him, he wouldn’t even be able to do anything about it.

The crater deepened another hundred meters. He wondered if he was allowed to cry in front of another guy. It wasn’t that he had any type of reputation to uphold in the first place. 

The transfer student was studying him as though he were an organism under a microscope. Gray shrunk under his gaze and turned away so his feet were just at the border between the umbrella’s protection and the rain. He didn’t want to be seen. He didn’t want to be helped. Whoever this guy was, he should’ve left him alone.

“Gray.”

Gray wasn't listening. His socks were drenched and his clothes were growing itchier by the second. He pulled down irritably at the collar of his uniform to let his skin breathe and a button popped off, tumbling into the grass, never to be seen again. Typical of his luck. He remained silent.

The transfer kid gently took his wrist and pulled Gray back towards him. He was about to speak out in protest when he noticed the guy was reaching into the pocket of his hoodie and brought out a folded paper napkin. 

Gray was already internally preparing himself to grab the napkin and run away as far as possible. He appreciated the gestures of apparent kindness but he’d live a happy life if he never saw the transfer kid again.

However, nothing stupefied Gray more than when the transfer student set down the umbrella, took a firm hold of Gray's chin, and used the napkin to carefully wipe the grime and sweat from his cheek like he was a porcelain antiquity. The transfer kid was methodical and steady-handed as if determined not to miss a single pore on Gray's skin. Gray barely had it in him to move, never mind running away.

They sat there for a few minutes, Gray quiet while the transfer kid dabbed at his face with napkins magically materializing from his sweater. He didn’t try to make conversation and Gray didn’t try to initiate any. Too many thoughts were flapping frenzied through his head. 

Who was this guy? How did he know his name? Why hadn’t he talked to Gray before? Had he been stalking him? Why was he helping Gray? Why did he care? When did he...

The transfer kid paused as a ladybug glided onto his wrist and shook the water off the shell of its wings. Gray would’ve pulled his hand away right then and made a break for it since he was distracted. But for whatever reason...he didn’t.

They both watched, Gray holding his breath, as the ladybug slowly ambled from the transfer’s wrist to his hand, taking its time because it understandably had all day. It rested in the crack of Gray’s palm for a moment before lazily flying up and landing on his exposed clavicle. The transfer kid was still staring and Gray didn’t know how to feel about the heat creeping up his face. The conniving ladybug flitted and warmed up its wings before darting off to brave the rain once again. They gazed at it until it flew outside the park and into the safety of the bushes in a neighbors’ flower garden.

His eyes drew back and connected with the transfer’s, who reached over and bopped him on the nose with a teasing grin.

“ _Gray_.”

Ah.

Tears puddled in Gray’s eyes. Alarmed, the transfer student pulled out another napkin and began to mop up the salty wetness sliding down his face, but that only made Gray cry harder.

“Why are you doing this?” he hiccuped. His nose scrunched because snot was dripping from it, his face was flushed, his eyes were red and there wasn’t a single doubt in Gray’s mind he was ugly at that moment. So why? “W-why do you care so much? I don’t even know your name.”

The transfer’s eyes creased in a warm smile. “Stephen.” 

Stephen wasn’t looking at Gray as if he was a detestable scrap of trash he literally found in the gutter. The opposite in fact. The transfer kid was beholding Gray as though he was...well...the prettiest person he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. He just was.

The corners of Gray’s mouth slowly upturned and for a moment, on that dreary afternoon at the dilapidated playground, it wasn’t all so pointless.

Stephen. He was an ocean.

The crater was filling up.

He sniffed. “I’m sorry for ruining your sweater, Stephen.”

“It’s alright, baby.”

* * *

Epilogue

Afterschool classes had ended and it was raining outside. Thunder and lightning, the whole circus show and the following encore. The weather reports noted it would probably flood that weekend.

Gray had forgotten his umbrella again. He exhaled and settled on the curb by the pickup site, long-abandoned. He’d have to stick around until the rain simmered down if he wanted to keep his homework intact. It’d be a lengthy wait, but at least it’d allow him time to figure out where to book reservations in the meantime. 

There was a chuckle from behind him and the cap of a pale yellow umbrella was dug into the pavement next to his feet. “Gray, baby, one of these days, we should go to the store and buy you your own.”

Gray scrambled up and twisted around to see Stephen standing behind him, an umbrella in one hand and a half-eaten brownie in the other. “Didn’t you go to the city?”

Stephen shrugged. “You went through all the trouble of making me this _delicious_ birthday brownie, so I figured we’d go to the PC cafe before the parental units drag us to a boring show downtown.”

Gray blinked. “Us?”

Stephen gave him a lopsided grin which distinctly read as “you silly”. “Yeah, _us_. If I die by contemporary opera, I’m taking you down with me.” He came forward and linked arms with Gray. They stepped off the curb and into the storm, canopied by pale yellow light as rain pelted the umbrella. There was just enough room for the two of them. Stephen was humming the main overture of the opera’s soundtrack, despite his earlier protests against it. Gray subtly shook his head, never failing to be baffled by Stephen’s ambiguous taste in music. 

Stephen stopped humming, caught up in thought. “By the way, I never knew you baked. How did you make those brownies?”

Gray clicked his tongue. “Baking is basic chemistry. Anyone with an oven can do it.”

“Ah yeah?” The look Stephen surveyed him with unnerved Gray. It wasn’t that he did anything morally wrong, so why was Stephen making that face? Gray hated that face.

They continued walking, going around puddles, and cracking their usual jokes. They were about to enter the cafe when Gray caught one more questionable glance from Stephen and decided he couldn’t do it anymore. He stopped short of the cafe’s awning and tugged on the sleeve of Stephen’s hoodie.

“Stephen?”

“Yeah?”

“The brownie. I...” He took a deep breath. “...I bought it for four dollars and 39 cents at the dollar store. I’m sorry for lying.” 

“It’s alright, baby.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I always thought assigning playlists for fanfics was kinda dumb, but this song is really appropriate for this chapter if you wanna check it out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1s2XGSnKYBU 
> 
> Actually it's kinda spooky how much it reflects this chapter for both Gray and Stephen, come to think of it--


	3. Enslaved Moisture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Free-form fluff for you, free-form fluff for you, EVERYONE GETS FREE-FORM FLUFF

Gray and Stephen sat across from each other on their couch. Gray had his face in a thick blue book about cakes and Stephen flipping through a luxury car magazine. Their legs were crossed over the other’s, entangled and relaxed. 

It was a sunny day, the type that blistered skin and melted popsicles before they could be eaten. They had the air conditioner on and two fans aimed at their bodies. A midday talk show was playing muted on the television at the front of the small living room, where a mom was angrily pulling the weave from her daughter’s head. 

Next door, they could hear the old lady who liked to come over and give them cookies complain about the water bill being too high. Which was fair, considering they were going steady through a two-month dry spell. Gray had forgone going to his recreational arts classes. Just the thought of getting into the car and baking to death had dread collecting at the bottom of his stomach. 

Stephen, who was always home anyway, was less affected. But frankly, that wasn’t new and that would never change. As long as he had a month’s supply of ice cream in the freezer and Gray to terrorize, he was appeased.

Gray thumbed to the next page of the heavy blue book, scanning over the zebra cake recipes. He wanted to get out. Pull on some trunks and run to the neighborhood waterpark with Stephen and try to mix with the six-year-olds simply staving off a hot day. His hair would be dry with chlorine and he’d probably get some inexplicable rash on his elbow, and it’d be worth it. But alas, according to channel 15 news, all water parks in the city were closed. 

“Stephen.”

“Hm?” Stephen looked up at Gray, whose violet eyes were peeking just above his book. 

“Do you want to have kids?” He asked this straightforward, with no weight or expectation to his tone. 

Stephen blinked before returning to his magazine and quietly admiring a yellow Porsche, more or less blind to the bikini-clad model draping herself over the hood. That was some nice suspension. “Nope. Why do you ask?”

“I’m bored.”

“And?”

“Having kids would be fun.”

“Not interested.”

Gray scrunched up his nose at Stephen’s indifference. “Why not?”

Stephen didn’t really know what Gray wanted to hear. He figured Gray had just been thinking about going to the water park to shove some unsuspecting toddlers away and thought it’d be a good topic to strike up with him. Gray hated kids. He did _not_ want any. 

“What do you have against kids?”

Stephen apathetically flipped another page, his eyes attracted to a beautiful lime-green monstrosity. “Nothing.” 

He felt Gray extract his legs and get up from the couch. Stephen didn’t mind, as his legs became considerably cooler and he was able to fold them to a more comfortable position. But he was done with the magazine, reaching the last page and mourning his lack of irresponsible spending money. He tossed it aside on the small circular table next to the small red couch he was resting on.

Gray was right. Summers like these where it was too hot to go out tended to suck the life out of everything. The last time they’d gone out was 2 weeks ago, grocery shopping to stock their fridge with plain vanilla ice cream and an abundance of baking supplies. Gray had decided to hone in one of his many talents and for weeks, Stephen had been privileged to enjoy whatever Gray had whipped up that day in delicious experimentation. 

He’d gotten excited when Gray tossed a giant jar of chocolate chips into the shopping cart, but he had yet to see anything involving chocolate in the slightest. He was getting anxious and Gray refused to let him come near his baking materials. Stephen had notorious sticky fingers and Gray had a notorious scarcity of patience for thievery.

They made such good friends. 

Stephen stood up and stretched his limbs vertically, smiling at the sound of his bones popping and his muscles snapping back into place. That was enough time spent looking at things he couldn’t have. The rush of the shower indicated Gray would be distracted for a while, and so Stephen planned an impromptu trip.

Grabbing a rickety old umbrella he bought at a garage sale for 50 cents, he prepared to head out into the scorching sun and locked the door to their apartment behind him. 

* * *

Gray heard the door shutting close and figured it was their neighbor, who having nothing better to do, made them yet another batch of scones. He had to admit they were magnificent. It had even inspired him to take up baking himself. He was not to be out-sconed. 

He sunk lower into his shower turned ice-cold bath. The heat was making him miserable. His mind was so addled he’d just asked Stephen if he wanted kids. The freezing water restored his rationality and he flushed involuntarily, wishing he could kick himself for asking such an embarrassing question. He could tell Stephen had chosen not to take him seriously, as Gray had voiced over and over again how annoying kids were. Their shared highschool experience may or may not have had a part in molding that opinion.

Gray wasn’t sure how long he was submerged in the water. It was only when he heard the door open and close again that he realized he’d probably been in the shower for way too long. He got out and dried off before hastily wrapping a towel around his waist, drying his foot on the plush carpet because he knew Stephen hated it when he trailed water into the hallway. 

In an unfortunate turn of architecture, he had to cross the living room to reach his own room, parallel and opposite to Stephen’s on the other side of the apartment. It had been a hard and fast battle of rock papers scissors to see who’d have the room next to the bathroom. Gray cursed his unlucky rock-fisting tendencies. 

Carefully treading the tiled hallway, he hoped he could quickly slide by Stephen without him noticing and make it to his room without any interaction. Stephen loved making fun of how skinny he was and Gray was not in the mood to be scorned for his underperforming muscles. 

Anyway, no such luck. 

Stephen was standing at the door to the living room already, perfectly positioned to catch Gray in his sorry attempt to slip by unnoticed. But Gray instead of a snarky comment, Gray was faced with something completely different.

He froze in place, one foot motioned to take another step, and his bath towel desperately clinging onto his waist. 

Stephen was holding a bouquet of what had to be at least 50 golden roses and at least three times that many were set on top of his blue baking book, perfectly present in brown wrapping paper and fluorescent green ribbon. 

He had a box of chocolate awkwardly hidden behind his back, a maddening grin concealed even worse and it didn’t escape Gray that Stephen’s face had the beginnings of sunburn. Had this idiot really gone out into the barren wilderness to get him...flowers?

Aware he was barely dressed, Gray held out a hand before Stephen could say a word. "Uh. Just stay right there. Um.” He shook his head in confusion and Stephen’s smile softened to something more familiar. It had been a long time since he’d seen Gray so flustered. Normally calculated and put together, Gray’s fingers fluttered frantically, trying to figure out what to do with themselves.

“....Do you want to put on a shirt or something?” Stephen suggested. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Gray undressed before, but the dude was currently in panic mode. It was kind of funny, but Gray scared and in reach of sharp objects was dangerous. The kitchen was _right_ there.

Gray blinked. “Right. Yes. I'll be right back." He escaped to his room, leaving squeaky steps behind on the tile of the hallway and accidentally slamming the door too hard. He instantly felt bad because it made it seem like he was upset at Stephen. It was really quite the opposite. His hands were shaking and butterflies and fireflies were working up a storm in his stomach. 

He quickly threw on some light clothing and glanced in the mirror next to his closet, glad to see he didn’t look outwardly a mess. That couldn’t be further from the truth internally.

He was really getting worked up over flowers. His life had come to this.

Checking his hair one more time and grabbing a bottle of SPF50 off his shelf, he took a deep breath and slowly walked back to the living room, unsurprised to see Stephen had already sat down and was eating the chocolates he’d bought for Gray. A luminous ray of white sunlight cast over the flowers, giving them an unearthly appearance. Gray was almost nervous taking one of the bouquets and holding it close to his chest, admiring their golden tint and the very obvious chemical enhancement of their scent. 

“Stephen.”

“Yes, Gray?”

“You have sunburn.”

“Didn’t notice.” His wince when Gray pressed a finger to his cheek said otherwise. He’d brought the umbrella but got excited when he was able to buy that many roses, miscalculating the number of hands he had to hold both the flowers and the umbrella on the way back. He’d abandoned his umbrella at the store and left his skin to the mercy of the sun’s wrath.

Stephen sat still as Gray tucked the bouquet under one arm, and used his available hand to carefully rub sunscreen onto the surface of his skin, using his index finger to go over the darkening splotches and freckles. Stephen didn’t have the heart to tell him applying sunscreen after getting burned was pointless. 

“So why’d you buy them?”

“Hm?” 

Gray grinned. “The roses. It’s not my birthday and if this is a ploy to let you touch my chocolate chips, it’s not going to work.”

Stephen’s lips quirked. “I bought 200 flowers and an overrated box of Lotte chocolates out of the goodness of my heart and you still accuse me of potential embezzlement?”

“Those Lotte chocolates were mine.”

“That’s right.” Stephen unashamedly selected a chocolate from the box and popped it into his mouth. “They _were_ , and now they’re mine.”

Gray laughed, the type with hiccups Stephen found almost unbearably cute. “Alright. Stop avoiding the question.” He plucked one of the roses from a bouquet, staring at each petal critically. “I don’t get it. What’s the occasion?”

“Hm, no occasion.”

“Then?”

Stephen pursed his lips. “Then what?”

Gray struggled not to stamp his feet in frustration. “Hey, stop and just tell me _why_ you bought 200 roses. There has to be some reason.”

Stephen sighed as if he were fulfilling a great obligation. But there was a knowing glint in his eyes as he motioned for Gray to come closer. With a bit of hesitation, Gray did, not sure what stunt Stephen was trying to pull.

Stephen leaned in, their faces a few inches apart, and whispered: “Because I like you.” Then he backed away, satisfied with his own answer. 

Gray’s eyebrows furrowed. “Okay? I like you too. You’re not making any sense.”

“Want me to elaborate?”

“Yes please.”

Stephen neatly folded his hands together. “I know you swore off dating like the emo punk kid you are, but I like you and if you won’t let someone love you enough to buy you your favorite food and your favorite flowers, then I will.”

He smugly clapped his hands together as if he were a scheming preschooler who’d just breached the cookie jar. “You could say I took matters into my own hands.” He extended the box to Gray, who hadn’t been able to come up with a suitable verbal response. “Chocolate? Better hurry, I hear they melt quickly during heatwaves.”

Finally deciding on his response, Gray ignored Stephen’s offer and sat down next to him. He removed the box from his hands and slipped his own hands onto Stephen’s, intertwining their fingers. “Thank you for the flowers.” Stephen beamed and Gray smiled back before adopting a more sober expression.

He looked at Stephen with the utmost seriousness. “Marry me.”

“Not interested.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, my promise of 3 short stories as a middle finger to physics is finally complete. Expect a rare pair fic by like 2023 lmao, bc Stephen and Gray looking kinda crusty :'D
> 
> Also, if anyone can figure out how the title links to the chapters, I may or may not take a request. I never take requests tho so it's impossible haHA good luck >:)

**Author's Note:**

> *runs away in italian*


End file.
